


Like Father, Like Son

by writtenthroughtime



Series: WTT's Posts for ImagineClaireandJamie [36]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: AU, AU where Brianna is Brian, Claire goes back early, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: Prompt:How about Brianna is Brian after all - look like Jamie, behave like Jamie, proud of his mother, respects her … like his father - everything Frank´s not + at the end Brian had some suspicion, he is not Frank´s, of course. F didn´t die and Claire is forced by circumstances to reveal the truth about Jamie. How would those two men react? (Please be mad at Frank for the manipulation and psychical terror against Claire. I would really love to read Jamie (or his son) to smash Frank´s face for his behavior





	1. Revelations

“Love, you need to calm down.” My mother cajoled in a failing attempt to abate my sudden fury.

“No, Mum, this is one time when I cannot calm down. All this time–” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to not let my anger out on her. “Why?”

“Why did I wait this long to tell you, or why did I not fight Frank on his request?”

“Both. I need to understand why you didn’t even try to go back. Why you left in the first place. Christ, Mum! Does my father have any idea about me? Did you keep me a secret from him before you left him? Am I just as much of a secret as he was to me?”

She crossed the room, grabbing a glass of Scotch before making her way to the couch and gesturing for me to take a seat as well. I refused and began pacing the room.

“He knew about you before even I did,” Mum said looking down into her glass.

“How–?” I started but was stopped with a gesture.

“If you want me to tell you this, you will ask questions later, understood?”

I nodded in agreement.

“Jamie kept track of things most men wouldn’t spare a single thought for, he was always thinking and observing those around him. In part, I think that’s what made him such a good hunter and leader. He knew what was coming and could think quick on his feet to find a solution.” She took a large swallow from the Scotch, swirling the last finger of liquid around nervously.

“You have to understand, that what I’m telling you didn’t take place in the world or country you know. I explained to you earlier that your father is from another time–I had gone back in time–and met him. This world held so many more dangers for everyone: famine, starvation, war, death, even the common cold would kill an entire family given the chance. Nothing was safe in Scotland, especially during the uprising.

Jamie and I… we had been trying to convince Charles Stuart to give up the foolish notion of an uprising, and in the process became the biggest outlaws to the English Crown. When the battle of Culloden was upon us, Jamie knew he was going to die, either by the sword and canon or at the end of an executioner’s noose. I swore to him that I would follow and that he was my home. I didn’t want to leave him or this life I had grown to love more dearly than anything in the world.”

Her eyes stared out unblinkingly, seeing a place, a time that only she could see. As she stared, the middle and ring fingers of her right hand rubbed back and forth over the odd ‘J’ shaped scar in her palm.

“When he told me that you were there, this miracle I hadn’t dared to dream of being real, he wanted to keep us safe. So I foolishly listened and went back.” Her eyes locked with mine, as her hand covered and squeezed mine. “I don’t regret a second of this life that I’ve lived because I’ve had you.”

“But you let… you let Frank pretend to raise me.”

“No, he loved you!”

“NO! He loved the idea of me. I always wondered how I looked the way I did, I chalked it up to latent genetics on yours or fa–Frank’s side. But that didn’t explain the sneers he’d give when he thought I wasn’t looking or the scoffing I heard when he thought I was asleep. Now that you’re telling me I have another father, one that I apparently am the spitting image of,” I protested pulling my hand free and gesturing to myself. “It all makes sense. Did you know that I thought I had a recurring nightmare for years, Mum?”

She shook her head, her hand reaching back out for me. I shook her off and stood up abruptly. “I thought this was a nightmare, a figment of my childish mind because I was the one who didn’t look like they belonged. It always was the same, Frank saying, ‘I’m trying but I can’t love you, you’re too much like him. Your mother can’t expect me to love something I can’t create.’ Then walking away. Now I understand I was hearing him talk to me while I was just on the edges of sleep, but had my eyes closed. This man whom you spent seventeen years beside hated me because I reminded him of someone. Someone he held with so much contempt he couldn’t see beyond the father for the sake of an innocent child.”

“Brian–”

“No, Mum. You don’t get to defend him anymore. He’s dead and along with him any understanding I may have of why he truly hated me and never let you see it.”

My anger spent and body shaking with adrenaline, I finally sat down next to my mother. She pulled me to her chest, letting me shake with a pent up emotion that hadn’t been used before: overwhelming sadness.

“Shh love, shh.” She cooed softly rocking me as best she could back and forth. “You’ll always be my little boy. I’ve loved you with my whole heart from the day you were born, I’m sorry that I’m not enough. A father is something every man needs, and darling, if I could I would turn back time and flee to your relatives. I never would have left to spare you from this pain, even if it meant I may not have survived.”

“What?” I sobbed, pulling back in alarm.

She smiled weakly and nodded. “The day you were born I nearly died from blood loss. Your birth was not the easiest, nor was your sister’s. I nearly died then as well, and probably should have. Only by some miracle did I survive long enough to conceive again and have you, my precious boy.”

“I-I almost killed you? How can I even…mother no! No, do not wish that sacrificing your life would be fair payment for me to have my father.”

“Brian,” she said cupping my face. “You did have a father, at least in show. I can understand your need for answers and explanations, I’m honestly shocked you believe my tale, since no one else ever has. I wish Frank would have been a father to you and I wish desperately that Jamie could see you and know you. He would love you with more than he has to give if that were possible.”

“Why if? Do you not think you could go back, or maybe I can’t? Didn’t I technically make the trip once?” I questioned, calculating how fast I could get both of us to Scotland.

“Darling,” Mum said shaking her head. “He’s dead. He died on Culloden Moor, which is something not even I can change or fix if we went back this second.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Why would I have stayed here this long if I wasn’t sure he was? I could easily have taken you back when you were a child, when times were slightly more favourable.” Tears filled her eyes again as she spoke. My heart lurched.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to try and find him? Either way, a trip to Scotland would be more beneficial to get away from all the Boston holds. The funeral yesterday proves my point. You need, no, we need a place where we can find peace and maybe, someone who needs us as well.”


	2. Discovery

Roger sat down across from me with a frustrated sigh.

“Are ye sure ye’re lookin’ in the right place, Brian?” He asked, running a hand through his hair and across his face.

I nodded and continued scanning the endless names from the Tilbury Fort prisoner records. More than one Fraser was listed on every prison record, and twice as many James’s. I tossed my list down, tempted to throw all of the records in the trash.

“Christ, I don't know if I'll ever find him. No wonder my mother didn't search after I was born.” I said, gripping my hair in a vice grip, parts already standing on end.

“Don't give up, Brian.” The melodious voice of Roger’s wife Brianna said as she placed a tray of tea and scones on the table before us. “You discovered he wasn't listed amongst those dead, you can and will find him.”

“Thank ye, love.” Roger pressed a kiss onto her palm. Brianna flushed red and pulled away with a half hearted protestation at the quasi-public display of his affection.

“What can I help with?” Brianna asked, hands on her hips and a determined expression set on her face. “And don't say more food or tea!”

I barked out a laugh and leafed through the pile of unsearched records. “Here, try one of these.”

She took the small stack before curling up next to her husband on the couch.

Four hours later, Mum found us still pouring over the last of prison records. Cold dregs of tea and crumbs from scones littered the tea tray that was partially buried in papers, the sunlight was the warm gold of sunset, and still no sign of a James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser on any of the lists.

“Have the three of you come up for air once?” She asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No,” I croaked out, my voice rough from disuse.

“Come on then, up you get.” She began, grabbing the book from my hand. As the bottom of the page passed my head I felt my stomach tighten in anticipation.

“Mum, wait. I think… Oh God! I found him! Look!” I jumped out of my seat and wrapped my arms around my mother, tears pooling in my eyes before she could even look at the line of text.

Roger grabbed the book out of my hand, his own shot straight to his hair. “Good, Christ! It says here that he was sentenced to an extra three years in indentured service for attempting to escape. He was overseen by a J.W.Grey at Ardsmuir Prison and sent to the Lake District, a place called Helwater.” Roger looked up, “Well there’s luck there, isn’t it? He wasn’t sent to the Colonies and you might be able to find the record of his release.”

I heard a sob beside my ear followed by a whispered “Jamie.”

“Mum?”

She sniffed and pulled back from my embrace. “I’m fine love, I just never thought I’d see his name again or talk about him. He didn’t die! And I wasn’t there.” Her voice trailed off into a sorrowful sob that wasn’t meant for anyone but a ghost to hear. “Jamie I’m so sorry.”

I pulled her back into my arms and held her tight. Her head tucking perfectly under my chin and her tears soaking into my neck.

“We found him, Mum. We found my father, and we need to do a little bit more digging to find out when he left Helwater and where he went. Now we know where to look and where to go. We’ll find him and then we’ll go back to him.” I kissed her head, “I promise.”

“Roger?” Mum sniffled.

“Yes, Mrs R--Claire?”

“When does that entry say Jamie left Ardsmuir for Helwater and does it have a sentence of indenture length of time?”

Roger cleared his throat and started mumbling as he read each column.

“It says here that his entry to the prison was made in 1752, the amendment to for the added years of indenture was 1755. It looks like,” He flipped through the remaining sheets of paper. “Yes, it looks like Ardsmuir saw its last prisoner arrive in January of 1755, one Duncan Mac, who was released in November of 1755. There are no further entries.”

“What does that mean?” I questioned.

“It could mean a number of things, we either don’t have a record of the full prisoner manuscript, or the prison was shut down in 1755. My money would be on the latter. Jamie’s entry does not say how long he was sent to Helwater, but it does say an additional three years were added on for his escape attempt. Tomorrow we can go into town and look for any record, and place inquiries about local men from the time period. We may just find his Contract of Indenture and the release date.”

“Thank you, Roger. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go for a walk, please do not wait up for me.” Mum said, as she walked out of the room in a daze.

I turned my attention back to Roger as she turned the corner and the front door shut with a thump. “Do you really think we can find him? The actual probability, please be honest.”

“Honestly?” Roger said, his hand raking through his hair. “It’s a slim to none shot. But I canna tell yer mum that. She’s had too much trauma related to this subject. If we can find the year he was released, I would place a solid bet that he went home to Broch Tuarach.”

“All we need is a definitive year.”

“That may not be something we could find, but the best chance would be to go straight to Lallybroch, supposing this time travel deal is possible.” He straightened, reached for his wife’s hand and nodded towards the kitchen. “I’m going to go see if Fiona is ready to start dinner. I’ll let you process what we’ve found.”

I was alone with the knowledge that my father was there, he survived, and I could meet him. It was overwhelming.

“I found him.” My hand covered my face as a satisfied laugh erupted from deep within. The feeling of nervous butterflies filled my stomach as total elation and adrenaline flooded my veins.

I don’t know how long I sat staring at the document holding my father’s name and the fate of my immediate future when I finally looked up, the night was starting to lighten into dawn and a brown wrapped package sitting beside a cup of tea, a glass of water, and a peanut butter sandwich. My mother’s elegant script lay atop the package.

**_My Darling Boy,_ **

The letter began.

**_I don’t want to wait to find the time or the place. I’m going home._ **

**_Inside the parcel, you’ll find an as accurate to date as possible period clothing for the 1750s and 60s. If you wish to join me in finding your father come to Craig na Dun before full sunrise. If not, I understand, but I cannot lose him again. Nor can I bear the thought of losing you. So please, Brian, follow me._ **

**_All my love,_ **   
**_Mum_ **

I looked at the sky closer, the night was slowly fading into the pinks of dawn.

“SHIT!” I screamed, grabbing the parcel and running out the door. I was more thankful that Roger left his keys in the car instead of bringing them inside each night as I jumped into his car and drove for Craig na Dun.

I could see her pacing at the top of the hill, her head turning as though she had just looked to see if I was there, but she didn’t see me. I ran, gripping the brown package of clothes tighter trying to reach her before she left me.

“Mum!” I screamed, her head turned but I was too late. “No! Mum, no!” I screamed as I watched my mother place her hands on the screaming rock and disappear.


End file.
